


Just a summer day

by ObsessiveDebauchery



Category: Dark Knight Rises (2012)
Genre: Domestic Fluff, M/M, Mpreg, PWP without Porn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-09
Updated: 2013-09-09
Packaged: 2017-12-26 03:55:14
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,112
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/961282
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ObsessiveDebauchery/pseuds/ObsessiveDebauchery
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Just a bit of domestic fluff between a pregnant Bane trying to survive yet another day of summer and Barsad, who's apparently never heard of babynames.com.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Just a summer day

**Author's Note:**

  * For [BubblyGreenBubbles](https://archiveofourown.org/users/BubblyGreenBubbles/gifts).



> This is a little something for Bubbles, written upon request.
> 
> Fair warning: I have never read or written A/B/O and am not even sure if this qualifies. It's just crack.

It.

Was.

_Hot_.

 

Bane lay on his back in the bedroom and tried not to think of the weather, even though it seemed determined to have away with him that afternoon. It felt cooler to lay on the sheets, as Barsad had left the bed made up that morning, than it did to sit in the shade. He could already feel that sweat was beginning to pool under his back and neck and legs but didn't want to move so instead, for distraction, tried to focus on listening to his surroundings, hoping it'd lull him to sleep; a plane flew by, drowning out all other sounds for a few seconds, and when it receded he could pick up on crickets and cars driving by along the nearest avenue, a neighbour down the street clanging tools around and children chasing each other, the fan in the hallway circulating air left and right and the small clock in the kitchen ticking away the seconds.

 

He was thankful to have asked Barsad to close the curtains all around the house before he left to try and keep some of the warm light out but in their bedroom there was always the issue of the french window the previous owners felt they just _had_ to have. On days like this it served to keep them open but make due with a bed sheet for a curtain. He hoped the one he'd hung there wouldn't fall off though the 'breeze' coming in was barely moving it anyways.

 

He thought about those french doors now, as he hoped for a spontaneous snow storm, and how they led nowhere due to a lack of veranda. The guard rail it had was sturdy enough but he knew they would eventually have to make their way to buy something to reinforce it with, like a piece of fence. Or maybe he could find out how much it would cost to renovate the wall with an entirely new kind of window.

 

Holy hell, it was _hot_.

 

He was naked and it wasn't enough. He could feel the discomfort suffocating him.

 

And then he could feel something else.

 

It made him wince but he half opened his eyes and smiled tiredly. As if on cue, the front door opened and he could hear Barsad hanging his keys and unlacing his boots. There was the rustle of a plastic bag but it approached the bedroom along with quick footsteps. Well he certainly couldn't fall asleep now so he tried to shift a bit as best he could onto a dryer spot on the bed.

 

“How are you feeling?” Barsad asked from the doorway, setting down whatever he'd bought and approaching the bed. Bane turned to smile at him and said the he was fine, just trying to get through the heatwave. He watched the man step carefully on the bed to sit between Bane's knees and plant his feet on either side of his rib cage. Bane pet and squeezed them, glad to have him back.

 

“Sorry if I woke you,” Barsad said, wiggling his toes under Bane's wrist in apology. “You didn't,” he assured the man with a sigh. “It's like she knows when you're home. She kicks.” This made Barsad laugh but Bane could tell from his grin that he was delighted.

 

“Yeah, daddy's home. Did you miss me?” he asked softly, placing his hands on Bane's pregnant belly, holding the round swell gently. The kicks weren't as hard but he was sure Barsad felt them as she finally began to still. He could already tell who she took after with her energy.

 

“How's your back?” Barsad asked, looking up at Bane warily.

 

“It's fine today. My shoulders hurt more, actually, trying to keep straight.”

 

“Tired of the gay scene already?” Barsad joked.

 

Bane wasn't amused, as he demonstrated by hurling the pillow form under his head at Barsad's, who laughed as he braced himself against the impact and then pushed it off Bane's belly where it landed. “I'll give you a massage,” he offered by way of apology, leaving a ring of kisses around their daughter.

 

Bane sighed and groaned all at once. “First I have to go to the bathroom. _Again_.”

 

Barsad moved quickly, careful as one could walking on a mattress, to help turn Bane on to his side and then sit up before trying to help lift him to his feet. “Thank you. I can handle it from here,” he said, running the backs of his fingers down Barsad's cheek before hurrying away. “Stop fussing, little one,” he implored as he stroked a hand over the squirming bundle within him, “we'll see your father again in a moment.”

 

As he relieved himself, no thanks to _someone_ practically somersaulting on his bladder, he leaned against the wall with his free hand and shifted from foot to foot, rotating them at the ankle to relieve some of the soreness.

 

A massage sounded glorious.

 

When he returned to the bedroom he found Barsad stripped to his boxers. “Holy fuck. You weren't kidding about the weather,” he said from where he sat against the headboard with a pillow on his lap. “We can't all work with air conditioning,” Bane said rather miserably as he lay down again, glad when his head came to rest on the pillow an he lay flat again.

 

As Barsad's hands began to rub and squeeze his shoulders he relaxed, sighing yet again as if he could exhale all of his discomforts. He felt the man above him bend forward to kiss a trail along his mask where it ran down to the middle of his face, stopping at the tubing that supplied his medication.

 

“Any new ideas for names?” Barsad asked as he straightened back up to continue his massaging.

 

“Not today,” Bane admitted, closing his eyes.

 

Usually they had a little back-and-forth with names, mostly a result of their having very different tastes in what to call their child.

 

Barsad was silent for a moment as he mulled over his answer.

 

“Is it because you're considering my last idea?”

 

Bane's eyes snapped open and he looked up to meet Barsad's hopeful smile. “We're _not_ calling her Kalashnikov.”

 

“No. We'd name her Kalashnikov but _call_ her Kala.”

 

“ _No_.” He shook his head in fixedness and closed his eyes again; he was steadfast in not giving in to something so ridiculous. He would have to remember to make sure their daughter never heard _every_ story of how she came to be named whatever they decided on.

 

Barsad leaned down again to kiss his neck and nuzzle him. “What about Beretta?” he whispered.

 

“I will hurt you,” Bane warned.


End file.
